


No hug allowed

by LarcaScorsa



Series: Goodbyes [1]
Category: Broadchurch
Genre: Alec Hardy Needs A Hug, End S2, Friendship, Gen, Goodbyes, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-15
Updated: 2020-10-15
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:47:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27024520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LarcaScorsa/pseuds/LarcaScorsa
Summary: Spoilers for S2. OSWho's the most tactile? It's not the one you'd thought. My take on their goodbye from season 2.
Relationships: Alec Hardy & Ellie Miller
Series: Goodbyes [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2111649
Comments: 7
Kudos: 37





	No hug allowed

**Author's Note:**

> Hello all :) Here is my first fic ever finished, feel free to tell me what you think of it! Lots of thanks to Hazelmist who agreed to beta-read it, you pushed me to finally take that first step. 
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> (Not really my headcanon, but thought it'd be fun to explain the hug situation like that.)

“Handshake?” he asked bemused.

“Yeah, not hugging you.”

Alec braced himself. Again. He took the offered hand and shook it, trying not to tug her into the embrace he desperately wanted to give her. Her wet eyes and wobbling lips tended to do that to him. But he respected her wishes. She probably still hated his guts or just couldn’t think of hugging her former boss. Maybe she was still thinking of him as her boss.

“Look after yourself, Miller,” he said, releasing her hand and watching her feeble smile as she nodded.

The moment was over though, and she was already at his door. In a bold attempt to make her stay, he reached for the first question that came to his mind, cringing internally as he asked it.

“What ‘bout Joe?”

“It’s been dealt with.”

The calm certainty in her eyes stopped him from probing any more questions on the subject. He trusted her to have done the right thing. It appeased him to know that they wouldn’t seek vengeance. Not that he didn’t think the man didn’t deserve it, but he certainly didn’t want to investigate any case about Joe’s whereabouts.

“What are you going to do now?” Ellie asked him, her back turned, looking straight ahead at the sea.

It surprised him a bit that she was interested, but he answered her nonetheless.

“Try to piece my life back together,” he muttered. “Be a DI again, reconnect with my daughter, maybe try to be a family again.”

“What, with Tess?” she turned on him, surprised.

“Well, yeah,” he answered her, arms crossed, watching his feet. He couldn’t bring himself to look at her. “I can’t really know if it’s going to work, but I ought to try. For Daisy. Now that she’s forgiven me and that I can look forward to a future, I’m not going to let her drift away from me again.”

“Well, sure, but you can do that without… I mean, you, have you forgiven Tess?”

He didn’t answer immediately. It was still a bit sore with Tess, but well, he couldn’t help himself. He missed her. He missed having a family, being a family. He needed to try and patch things up. So much had happened since then, it seemed foolish to hold it against her.

“Oh god, you still love her, right?”

He looked at everything but Miller. He really wasn’t comfortable talking about his private life like that, especially his feelings. With anyone, really. Too personal, too messy. Even _he_ had no idea what he felt for Tess anymore. It wasn’t really love. More like a sense of loss he wanted to fill. He hadn’t really thought it through, though. Wasn’t quite ready to, actually.

But she mistook his silence for what it wasn’t and broke it with a choked-up whisper.

“But she betrayed you.” Tears were filling her eyes again. “How can you—” She couldn’t finish, and he watched with horror as heavy sobs started overtaking her body. God, what had he done again to make her feel like that? Surely, she couldn’t be _that_ affected by his decision to make amends with Tess, could she? It made no sense.

But there she was, making a mess of herself in front of him once again, and his arms were itching to wrap themselves around her, to comfort her against demons he knew nothing about. He managed to stop himself at the last second. He hadn’t even registered he’d moved, his hands inches away from her shoulders. Crossing his arms over his chest again to restrain them from moving of their own accord, he remained there, hovering above her, barely a foot away, raking his mind for something to say. Alec Hardy was not known for being good with words of comfort, and he knew it. Especially when he had no idea what on earth had triggered her.

“What is it?” he asked with the gentlest voice he could manage.

Her tear-filled eyes rose to meet his, full of fear and panic.

“How can we still love them?” she breathed.

Realisation came crashing over him, to its full extent. Of course she’d still love Joe. Hardy knew better than anyone else how you could hate someone with all your might after a betrayal that huge, and still love them despite it all. And hate yourself for it. It took him years to detach himself from his own feelings toward Tess, and he was still longing for her, still wishing everything was alright again between them, even when it hadn’t been alright for a long time before her betrayal came to light. It hadn’t even been a year for Miller since he’d shattered her in that tiny interrogation room. All her memories of Joe were loving, they’d been married for over twelve years and it had truly been twelve years of happiness. She’d been so much happier than he’d ever been, and Joe’s actions had been so much worse than Tess’. Her fall had been incomparably harsher than his, and yet he felt like he could relate to her.

Desperately hugging his own chest, he gazed above her head at the dock behind her, shutting down his feelings so he would not overwhelm her with his own tears. God, she managed so much better than him, considering.

“It’s okay,” he finally managed to mouth in a whisper. “We’ve loved them for so long, it’s only natural it’ll take time for everything to settle down. It took me long enough,” he added as an afterthought. He looked her in the eyes again. “It’ll fade, don’t worry.”

She scoffed and threw her hands in the air, anger rising again in her voice.

“Fade? How could it fade? You may have forgiven her but if you haven’t been able to stop loving her, how am I supposed to deal with it since I can’t ever forgive what he’s done?!” She began to lose it. “God, I hate him so much! And I hate myself equally for not being able to let go, which makes me hate him even more because it’s his fault for ruining everything and being a fucking murderer and a… a… child… lover and it’s like an infinite circle of hate and anger that I just can’t let myself out and that’s just not _me_ , you know? And why am I telling you all this? God I’m just so sick of everything, why can’t I ever have closure…?”

The desperation in her voice, the fear, the anger, everything was so tangible and real and heart-breaking, Hardy was glad he had the surgery, otherwise he wasn’t sure he’d have been able to sustain her flow of words and tears and all these emotions seeping out of her. In an interrogation room, he builds up inside cold walls that match the room’s to protect himself, to allow him to be the relentless and emotionless DI he was famous for. But here, in this little blue shack that became their lair, he was as bare as he had ever been, and everything was just too raw for him to endure. Contrary to popular belief, he knew what empathy was. He was just good at hiding it, usually.

“Come here,” he breathed, finally opening his arms for her.

“What? No! I said I wasn’t hugging you! Why do you insist so much on this? God, what is wrong with you?” she cried, taking a step back.

The rejection stung more than he would admit, each word a slap in the face. Anger rose again in his chest, fuelled by the frustration of it all and his own mixed feelings; at a loss for what to do, he let himself fall into their safe and easy, old bickering pattern.

“What is wrong with _me_?” he said, his voice steadily rising, Scottish accent dripping everywhere. “I’m not the one overreacting, here! Assuming things about people while ranting about love and hate and how shitty life really is, clearly seeking out comfort then refusing it when it’s offered to you! What do you expect from me, Miller? I’m not one for shitty platitudes, you know that! I’m rubbish with words, I’m better with—” he faltered, voice turned soft, gesturing with his arms to make his meaning clearer, obviously failing. “—physical demonstration? Please, Ellie.”

She eyed him incredulously, clearly struggling to take it all in. She seemed on the verge of being mad at him for talking to her like that but was too stunned by his admission and… resolution, to indulge in it.

“Well, I’m—I’m not. Sorry,” she cringed and clammed up. “With everyone, to be honest,” she added in a vain attempt to make him feel better about himself.

He sighed, his arms falling again alongside his body, not knowing where to go. He tucked his hands inside his pockets, for anything else to do while something inside him stirred, and before he could put his finger on it, the words were out of his mouth.

“‘Not you.’”

“What?”

“At the sentencing. You said, ‘not you’,” he responded, a bit stunned himself at the memory he barely consciously remembered and by the hurt he heard in his own words.

“What? Do you remember everything I’ve ever said to you?”

“Apparently.”

“Well, I didn’t peg you for a hugger!” she exclaimed when he didn’t elaborate. “And I told you not to be nice to me.”

“Miller!” he cried, but sighed immediately “I… I usually restrain myself. ‘Specially in the line of work. But I… I used to. Be a ‘hugger’, I mean. With my family, my friends,” he looked at her pointedly. “The few I had, at least,” he faltered, not quite knowing what to say exactly that compelled him to hug her so desperately. But she _was_ his friend. He thought of her that way, in any case. ~~~~

Her expression was one of utter astonishment. He couldn’t say if it was the idea of him hugging people or the fact that he considered her a friend that’d brought her to this state, but at least she’d stopped crying. She finally wavered under his gaze, looking at her feet.

“Well, not me. I’ve never been overtly physical,” she uttered in a sort of apology, “apart from the kids and Joe and… Beth’s the only one outside family, really. Joe… Joe was the touchy-feely one.” Her face was reddening with a mixture of feelings he couldn’t quite place.

He wisely chose not to react to her last statement, instead focusing on the bit of news he couldn’t wrap his head around.

“You? You’re not… tactile?” he couldn’t quite believe it. “But you’re all… empathy! You’re literally empathy on legs! You try to comfort every poor fellow that crosses your path! How can you not be—?” Eying her growing frown, he sensed he wasn’t on the right track and promptly shut up, before mumbling to himself, “I can’t believe I haven’t noticed it.”

“Ah! You talk about a detective!” she mocked him, finally smiling.

He would never admit it out loud, and he hid it behind an eye roll, but he was glad to have her wit back on track. He would never have allowed himself to part ways with her upset.

“Yeah, what a pair we are,” he replied. “Can’t believe you couldn’t tell I was a hugger,” he joked before she could horribly misunderstand him.

He was rewarded by a short laugh. “Well, you hid it well, sir.”

“What, not quite believing me, are you? Want proof?” he opened his arms again, an eyebrow raised and a smile curling up one corner of his lips, clearly indicating he was teasing and not a threat. “‘Cause I can prove it to you, Miller, oh yes!”

This time she openly laughed and swatted his arms away. “Stop it!”

The rebuff almost didn’t sting. He was even proud of his little success. Sure, he couldn’t hold her, and God knows he wanted to, but he had made her smile, and laugh, and hopefully made her feel generally better. Just with words. He wasn’t really used to that, but it was a nice feeling. The urge to comfort her even dampened with her laughter.

“I can’t believe you’re actually like that! All tactile and joking! It’s like I don’t know you at all, after all…”

He frowned. He didn’t know how to respond to that. She did know him. Surely better than anyone else, in fact. She certainly was the only one to put up with him, and well, the best partner he’d had in a very long time.

“No, you do. You just— Well, you—” he stuttered, unable to come up with anything that could explain his lack of… friendliness you could say. Except the fact that he was actually hitting rock bottom when she met him, but he couldn’t tell her that. Nor could he say that he was only affectionate around people he actually liked, but still a grumpy git the rest of the time.

As the silence grew longer, and not a single word came out of his mouth, he felt the awkwardness seep inside him again, like a long-lost friend. The blissful moment was over. He started shifting, gazing past her and guarded himself for what she would throw at him next.

But nothing came. She was simply eyeing him with something akin to fondness on her face and he wondered how he managed to put that there or if it was him at all. Was ‘standing there awkwardly’ endearing in any way, these days?

“What?”

“Nothing!”

“You’re eyeing me weirdly.”

“No, I’m not!” she said, her cheeks flushing a bit.

“Yes, you are!”

“I’m definitely not! Gosh, you’re such a knob.”

He resisted the urge to grin and rather let the silence stretch. He was the one to have the upper hand, now, and he would take full advantage of it. Who’s awkwardly standing now, hey? Served her right. It only took her a minute to deflate and spoke her mind.

“I just thought I’ll probably miss you, alright! What with your unkept beard, your messy hair and your deep frown. Gosh I can’t believe I’m going to miss your frown,” she muttered to herself. “I’ve grown quite used to it, eh, after spending hours next to it for days on end,” she finished with a sheepish smile.

He hadn’t been expecting that. But it pleased him in a weird way and this time, he couldn’t keep a small smile from crawling on his lips.

“Glad I’ve made such a lasting impression,” he teased her, before relenting in a soft voice, “I’ll probably miss you too, Miller. You were quite a decent partner.” The best, actually, but he wasn’t allowed to be nice to her.

A small laugh escaped her, but she remained otherwise silent, satisfied with his half-compliment. The atmosphere changed subtly, from a tense and awkward silence, to a shared one they could revel in.

He was finally coming to peace with his own departure.

Ellie let her eyes wander the interior of the shack, surely remembering all the time she spent there—going through hundreds of files, depositions and receipts for Sandbrook—while Hardy was gazing longingly at the small waves lapping the docks outside.

“I should probably go, now,” Miller softly broke the silence.

“Yeah, sure, of course,” he nodded resolutely. “Well, um, take care, okay? And stay in touch?”

She eyed him warily but nodded, a truer smile than before forging on her face. “Of course, sir. You too.”

“Will do. See you around, Miller.”

And with that, she was gone.

He stared at the spot she’d just departed, calmer than before, even if a bit disappointed he hadn’t hugged her goodbye. But as a socially awkward person, he knew perfectly well not to push himself onto others and respected personal boundaries. At least when he could understand them.

Sighing, he made his very quick goodbyes to the little blue shack and hauled his small suitcase outside, following the docks to the meeting point with the taxi which shouldn’t be too long now. By habit, he glared at the sea all the time it took him to reach the rendez-vous point. It always gave him an unwanted feeling of doom and restlessness, and he hated it. But somehow during these dreadful last months, it’d come with a bittersweet after-taste. Something in him, behind the very strong satisfaction and relief of leaving it all, stirred at the idea.

Somehow, in the process of sewing his heart and life back together, Alec Hardy had sewed himself to the sea. To this place. To her.

He just hadn’t realised it yet.

**Author's Note:**

> Ok, I know it's a bit frustrating, but I'm really keen on consent, even when it comes to hugs. It's really not fun to be coerce in a hug you don't want. I think they actually did a great job in the show with Hardy not pushing Ellie's limits. 
> 
> Hope you liked it though!


End file.
